This blog was created for others who will hopefully glean something from the words I have written.Not much to say except I ran off from an orphanage when I was 13 years old.Hopped on a freight train and joined the circus.Have been wandering ever since.I am grateful to be alive and my only desire is to leave something here for others to gain from.If I can accomplish that then I have successfully reached my intended goal.All we have left in the end is our legacy.
The persona of its cynosure Equidistance is reachable Therefore I can attain what it offers Though it asks for nothing in return Expecations are still presented Upon its form are signs Plainly understood and accepted Its barriers remain enclosed Only brief moments are shown Projections to be pondered upon Before speaking of things meant For eventual exposure Chosen ears and eyes remain ready Willing to accept the variables Of things written upon walls When plaster is placed over them The chosen eyes will still see
Upon the wall she remains We danced the tango all night With her crimson dress about me She glided gracefully along Taking the lead without notice No gasps were heard from the crowd And had they noticed She would not have been prevented In her zeal to show me the steps It's not about winning Or who is better It's about the invention of self Traveling down a dark corridor When a hand reaches out to assist Who am I to refuse Buried within the mist Pull me out of the fog O'hand Take me to the place of music Let us dance in front of Gasping crowds who do not understand As long as I lean forward Willing to cross the land I don't care who takes the lead So let me have your hand
What is the lady thinking as she looks out the window Does she see a cloud in the sky that looks like something What kind of places does her mind go to Maybe she is restless or angry about something Doesn't she know that when she looks at the stars and the moon That there is no distance between that separates others Who also look at the same thing Her eyes can see But can she fly Where does she fly to if she can Where would she fly to if she cannot Still her voice is silent Will she allow me in Or if not will she allow anyone entrance This is the paradox that has been set In mystery she gazes out the window Leaving all in wonder In the presence of a glaring moon
In my death throes You kill me with your silence Your body covers me I am in total darkness with you Life is sucked away from me Yet you remain silent Oblivious to my pain Yet you cannot speak You can feel me in your presence Inescapable yet you leave me in abandon Chained to myself As you are chained to me You bathe me but you are unwilling Fear is in your voice But it is not within your mind Will you let me die without hearing Or will you reach down into your broken heart Presenting me with some token to take with me On my long journey homeward I have ingested deadly Oleander But that is good enough for me As long as your whispers are in my ear Always resting across my lips
There is no rest with this woman I don't sleep in much when at home Her pet bulldog doesn't like me that much My job is 2600 miles away This is like a hop and a skip away At any time she might show up She won't let me be lazy Cheating on her Who in their right mind would She is good to me But she loves her camera more Every three months I go home But I send money home every week Guess I need to be motivated ~ That scowl on her face It is only on the outside Inside there is a tender heart But I don't let anyone know it I'm sort of selfish when it comes to Precious things which mean alot to me So I tell the stories about her And let them believe she is a mean woman There is no other like her It is that secret heart she has It is that place in her mind that caresses me Her words dance into my ears They stay imprinted in my mind She is the unique gift sent to me By something greater than I Although I believe in all she is I will not let others know If she dies in my heart My heart will die as well The bulldog really likes me I don't want to be 2600 miles from home I die a thousand deaths each night Because I cannot hear her voice Her soul haunts me Her lips taunt me I'm saying this to myself Because I cannot let anyone know This treasure is my secret refuge Where I go to rest my head And really I sleep in when I go home And really I make her take long naps With me and the bulldog in our bed
Consumed in the fields of wheat In slumber concealed Miniscule regions revealed Only high flying birds can detect In these fields of wheat that sway Accordingly the winds direction Determines the course of the flow These stalks will serve as bread To feed the living dead But not before I have endeavored To dream upon it in my sleep Until then the wheat will keep It will remain silent and accept My presence as if though A strange growth of chaff That thrives within the wheat Waling about to and fro Seeking whom it may devour
